


Ps. I Love You

by Neapolitan



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neapolitan/pseuds/Neapolitan
Summary: Once a month since sophomore year Jeremy receives a letter from a secret admirer, always accompanied by a flower.





	Ps. I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> i swear ill never write anything other than boyf riends
> 
> anyways happy valentine's day! i hope yall are having a nice date day. and if you dont have a date, hey, ill be your date! 
> 
> <3

 

The first one came on a Wednesday, several weeks into sophomore year.

Jeremy was always late for third period but he had a good reason - if the inaine urge to avoid everyone on planet earth was a good reason to slip through the cafeteria’s back door, literally walk the perimeter of the building to get to his locker in the entrance hallway and then back up around the mostly empty science block towards his English room, which was in fact right by the cafeteria. It was an inconvenient way of extreme avoidance but it made Jeremy much more comfortable coexisting as a metaphorical bleeding rabbit amongst the slightly less metaphorical ravenous animal packs that were the students of Middleborough High.

Now Jeremy  _ could  _ very well leave lunch a little early so he wouldn't lose 10 years of his fucking lifespan every single day trying to make it to English on time but lunch was the only time he got to talk to Michael. It was an obvious choice to Jeremy. Michael has been Jeremy’s best friend since diapers and the fact that they couldn't talk in the one class they had together (last period History - and  _ only  _ because Mr. Giles had separated them after Jeremy made Michael laugh so hard he fell forward on his desk and actually broke it. Jeremy had taken full blame and was moved to a bullshit spot right in front of Mr. Giles’ desk so he could “keep an eye” on him. Miserable bastard) drove them both crazy. Lunch was the only time other than the first hour where Michael could babble about some new obscure information he'd scrounged from random wikipedia pages and Jeremy could rant all about the YouTube conspiracy videos he'd stayed up all night obsessively watching, finding comfort in the fact that they were relatively unbothered (kind of) losers surviving high school together. Besides, Jeremy loved listening to Michael ramble. It was  ~~ cute ~~  - cool. It was cool. Interesting. Neat. Fascinating.

Yeah.

_ Anyway _ .

Back on topic. He really shouldn't be trying to think about these things while he's running for his life. Ms. Aberline had been in hospital for the past week which meant Jeremy had been subjected to the world's worst substitute fucking ever, Mrs. Wicht. Ms. Aberline was a godsend, she knew that Jeremy had the worst case of anxiety known to man and never bat an eyelash at Jeremy’s twitchy, paranoid lateness. Mrs. _Witch_ didn't care. In fact, she was on such a level of complete wrathful apathy that she had threatened to give him an after school detention if he “kept this up”. Jeremy was utterly fucked.

“Fucking hag,” Michael had said when Jeremy explained his situation with palpable pain in his voice. “But hey, she's just a sub, rostered on for only another week. Worse case scenario, Ms. Aberline’s breaks her other leg and you get Mrs. Witch for another 10 weeks.”

“You're really not helping, Mik,” Jeremy whined, slightly muffled from his position face down on the lunch table.

Michael hummed sympathetically and lay his head against the table, his cheek pressed almost comically against the plastic. “Cheer up, Remmy. You’ll make it through this.”

“Sure I will.” Jeremy slid his arms under his chin, hunching his shoulders inwards with a sigh. He glanced over at Michael and snorted. “D’you wanna come over tonight?”

“Of course,” Michael beamed. “You get that old playstation multiplayer game you wanted yet?”

“Apocalypse of the Damned? Hell yeah I did! It was hell to find and hard as fuck to beat. I keep dying on, like, level 1.”

“Well, it is multiplayer for a reason. We’ll beat it together.”

Jeremy smiled and he couldn't think of any other time he felt more in love with Michael. As a friend. A best friend. A really great, not at all adorable or attractive in the slightest best friend.

Yep.

_ Anyway. _

Being distracted meant Jeremy didn't have much control over his speed, which meant Jeremy slammed his whole body against his locker because he was a mess and lost the ability to slam the breaks. Fucking idiot. He scrambled for the lock, twisting it in ways that might’ve potentially broken his wrist. He pulled it open swiftly, arms already reaching in for his English notebook, not bothering to switch out the contents of his bag.

He paused. There, very out of place atop of his fourth period Maths textbook, sat a flower. Or, it was more a bunch of little soft purple flowers stuck on the one branch. Jeremy frowned, reaching over to pick it up delicately, turning it over in his fingers. It was pretty, smelt really nice, and Jeremy didn't dislike flowers. He was more confused towards its existence in his locker. He glanced over at where it had sat and noticed an envelope, tucked neatly in the space that occupied the flower. Suspicious and confused but curious, Jeremy took the envelope and opened it.

 

_ Your smile is like a crescent moon on a clear night: bright and wonderful and surrounded by stars. Even when you're not smiling you’re the most beautiful thing in the sky. _

 

Jeremy felt his throat catch at the words carefully printed onto the page. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching but only saw a few stragglers gathering their own things for class last minute. Jeremy swallowed roughly and continued reading the last few paragraphs.

 

_ Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you that in person, but I guess I'm too much of a coward. Just know that someone loves you, and that someone is me. _

_ I love you. _

__ \- Your Secret Admirer _ _

 

 

_ Ps. Did you know that flowers have meanings? This one’s a Lilac. _

 

Jeremy reread the letter at least 3 times before the message really sunk in. He had a secret admirer. Someone at this school loved him. Someone  _ loved  _ him.

He relished in the feeling for about 3 more seconds before anxiety and self-loathing reared their ugly heads. What if this was all a joke? What if Rich had somehow found out his locker combo and planted this shit just to torture him again? What if it wasn't real? That dampened the mood quick for Jeremy. Regrettably, Jeremy balled up the note and threw it to the back of his locker, not having quite the heart to throw it out. He did chuck the flower though, crushing it under his foot alongside his heart.

The late bell rang through the hall, jolting Jeremy out of his miserable stupor.

English.

Mrs. Witch.

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

 

A month had gone by before the second one came.

Michael had been sympathetic when Jeremy finally told him about the assumed fake letter, if not a little disheartened by Jeremy’s total lack if self-esteem. He bought him chocolate the next day to cheer him up. Jeremy wondered, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, what he did to deserve someone like Michael.

Mrs. Aberline was back, with a freshly healed leg and her usual gentle understanding. Jeremy literally celebrated the end of Mrs. Witch’s tyrannical reign, throwing a little pseudo party where he sat alone in his room wearing a party hat and watching Les Mis while drinking a litre pepsi he'd smuggled upstairs.

But Mrs. Aberline being back meant that Jeremy didn't have to mimic the pain and exhaustion of the fucking Pacer Test in order to get from point A to point B to point A again for the apparent benefit of horrible middle-aged women. So Jeremy leisurely walked his predetermined path around the school, through the front doors and towards his locker. He dutifully ignored the new derogatory message from Rich scribbled onto its metallic surface in favour of twisting the combination lock and jamming it open.

There were three flowers sitting in the same space the first was. Jeremy once again didn't recognise them but they seemed to be the same flower; small and white with long, tube-like petals and wide leaves. Jeremy frowned. This again? He brushed the flowers aside and plucked the envelope up from its position. He really shouldn't read it, just throw it away and be done with the joke, but Jeremy was too curious for his own good.

 

_ Your eyes are like a wave of tropical ocean water, climbing so high that the sun's golden light shines right through it in a haze. You are as much exotic as you are cosmic. _

 

_ I'm really sorry if my first letter upset you. I promise it's not a joke, I'm not playing the long con. I truly do love you and I truly am real. I'm so sorry that the world lied to you for so long that you began to believe that you aren't beautiful. _

__ \- Your Secret Admirer _ _

 

 

_ Ps. They're called Honeysuckles. Cute, huh? _

 

Jeremy blushed, timidly scratching at his cheek with his free hand. The words were so gorgeous, so thought out and beautiful. And they were for him? This person thought he was beautiful. He felt his cheeks grow hotter.

He carefully folded the letter back into its envelope, tucking it into his bag to bring home. After a second of mental debate, he grabbed the flowers too, placing them in the pocket of his cardigan. He walked to English with a dreamy skip in his step.

(Later that night, he’ll remember the thing about flower meanings and quickly google both the honeysuckles and the lilacs from last month.

Devoted affection and emotions of first love respectively. Jeremy’s heart soared)

 

* * *

 

 

It continued through sophomore and into junior. Always once a month, always before third period, always with a flower.

Aster. Symbol of love.

Oxyeye Daisy. Patience.

Snowdrop. Hope.

Purple Heather. Admiration.

Orchid. Beauty.

Blue Violet. Faithfulness.

Red Gerbera. Fully immersed in love.

The letters were so sweet too. He was positively captivated by the language and the imagery, something that was so obviously done with such care and attention. They talked about his hair, how it fell like spun gold. How his laugh sounded better than their favourite song. How his skin looked like satin, delicate and soft. How his mannerisms were so cute, so uniquely Jeremy and therefore perfect. Jeremy’s heart sang with every new letter, every new flower.

Michael supported this, loving the mystery of it all. He'd suggested after the 8th month that he should try to catch the secret admirer himself, stake out his locker until he saw them deliver the letter. Jeremy had refused, saying that he wanted them to apprpach him.

“They seem really nervous and shy,” Jeremy had said, his fingers clicking at the controller to move his little character around. “I don't want to push them. They’ll approach me when they're ready.”

Michael went quiet for a while, his character stopping dead on the screen before he resumed his flailing about. “You're a sweetheart, Jewwy Bewwy!”

“Shut up, I hate you, get out of my house.”

“This is  _ my _ house.”

“All houses are mine, Michael. Every house. The whole earth is like one big house and it's mine.”

“I for one welcome our new geeky overlord,” Michael cheered jovily, momentarily turning away from the screen to bow his head.

Jeremy giggled, reaching over to tap both of Michael's shoulders in a mock knighting. “Arise Sir Mell, head knight and player 1 of the land of Heerovia.”

“I live to serve you, my lord,” Michael laughed lowly. Jeremy felt a warmth in his gut that he swiftly and immediately dismissed. He had to get over this…  _ thing  _ he had for Michael. He had a secret admirer, he had a schoolboy crush on Christine (which, he admits, he blew a little out of proportion in order to further ignore his not-feelings for his best friend) he didn't have anything with Michael Mell except a friendship that bordered on brotherhood. Something as solid as this ran far too deep to be tainted with the uncertainty of romance. He couldn't risk it.

_ Anyway _ .

Jeremy kept every letter and later bought a book to press each flower into, carefully writing their meanings alongside them on the page. He felt a little guilty at times. This admirer was sending him these sweet letters, getting nothing in return, and then having to watch Jeremy gush over  ~~ other people ~~ another person. Singular. Especially after Jeremy recieved a red tulip (undying love) and a beautiful letter significantly longer than the others detailing that Jeremy didn't need to love them back, that him knowing that he was loved was good enough. It tore at Jeremy’s heartstrings somethibg awful.

He, of course, confided all of this to Michael who, of course, reasurred him and said that it was alright. That he had no obligation to return any feelings towards this person. “You love who you want,” Michael had said wisely, swallowing his bite of convenience store sushi. “You don't have to feel anything for this guy. It's your decision and if they can't respect that then they don't deserve you, no matter how many pretty flowers or nice letters they give you.”

Jeremy could have kissed him. He must have done something astronomically amazing in a past life to deserve Michael Mell’s friendship.

The thing was, Jeremy  _ did  _ kind of have feelinga for this person. Well, a much feelings as one could get for a disembodied genderless person whom Jeremy had never fucking met. But really, who would not fall in love with those words, those phrases, the imagery. It was all so gorgeous and Jeremy only wanted more. But he stuck by his morals of not pushing them. They would approach in their own time.

For now, Jeremy just had to survive, navigating the dangerous halls of Middleborough and adamantly avoiding any more of Rich’s harassment. Its bad enough he defiles his locker but his bag? He’ll never be able to wash that shit off. Whatever. Just keep walking. Think of something else. Hey, what does that poster say?

 

* * *

 

 

The Squip was not nice. It was as obvious as a fucking pink elephant wearing a propeller hat and holding up a sign that read  _ YOU'RE A FUCKING SELFISH IDIOT  _ in bright white on black but it somehow flew over Jeremy’s head so wide he couldn't even see it if he looked right up at it. Really, his first sign should have been way back at the eletrocution but like a trusting, gullible idiot he really did think it was helping him. He even turned Michael Mell, an angel saint who only ever tried to help him, away without so much as hearing him out.

He did a lot of bad things whist under the Squip’s rule but nothing compared to blocking out Michael. He hated himself for it. Honestly, how dare he? He was so arrogant in thinking that it'd be even remotely okay to do something like that to his best friend. So selfish, so  _ terrible _

No. He promised Michael. He promised he wouldn't go down that road anymore. Deep breaths. Okay.

Jeremy had a lot to make up for, and he started with Michael. That boy deserved better than a peice of shit best friend who was so weak and pathetic he turned to a computer and begged it to tell him how to live his life. Michael was sweet, saying that he'd already forgiven him, but Jeremy didn't feel like he deserved it yet. He didn't deserve to breath the same air as Michael. At least, not yet. He's working on it.

A lot of things happened during the Squip and after the Squip. Only a handful of Squip events really stood out to Jeremy: blocking Michael, dating Brooke, the party, the play.

The admirer.

A few weeks after Jeremy had taken the Squip he had recieved the first double letter since the whole thing began, two letters within a week of each other. The Squip, going through his memories, reacted with distain upon seeing the flowers and the emvelope but stepped aside strangely easily when Jeremy pushed to read them.

The first one was sad, a plead to stop acting like this, that this wasn’t the Jeremy they’d fallen in love with, that this was foreign and wrong and scary. The Squip had to force him not to tear up. The flower was a dried white rose which took a bit of digging to get the meaning. Sorrow. It was enough to make him feel sick with guilt.

The second one was short, shaky, and heartbreaking.

 

_ please _

 

There was no flower. Not even the Squip could stop him from crying.

No more letters were left after that.

Jeremy wished he knew who his admirer wad so he could apologise. He wished for a lot of things after he'd been freed from the Squip. He'd wished he'd never taken it. He'd wished things would go back to normal. He'd wished that he'd stop having nightmares about it. He'd wished he were dead.

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

Being friends with the popular kids, because trauma really does bring people together, meant that Jeremy didn't need to do his stupid third period avoidance walk of shame anymore but he felt weird not doing it so he kept at it, clinging to the familiarity of the path. This particular day, he'd taken extra long, doing everything shy of walking a full lap around the school before he made it to his locker, opening it with apathetic lackluster.

Jeremy dropped his bag to the floor in shock, staring at the yellow chrysanthemum that sat in his locker in the usual flower spot. He picked it up with shaky hands and immediately sought out the letter that accompanied it.

 

_ You're back. I'm glad. I still love you. Until the end of time. _

 

Michael found him later in the bathroom, crying his eyes out and clutching the letter to his chest. He sobbed into Michael’s hoodie for a solid hour, repeating over and over again about how he didn't deserve them, didn't deserve love. Michael vehemently disagreed, hugging him tightly and whispering that he deserved all the love in the world. It only served to make Jeremy cry harder. They took the rest of the day off, spending it cuddling in Michael’s basement until they both fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Jeremy stared at the letter in his hands, reading it over for the millionth time. He couldn't deny the words printed on the paper. He had put the paper down and picked it back up, rubbed his eyes, pinched himself. This was real. What he was reading was real.

 

_ No flower today, you'll notice. That's because I've got it. I can't keep this hidden anymore. Meet me at the football field after school. I can't wait to see you. _

 

_ Ps. I love you _

 

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit

Jeremy was shaking, his whole being trembling with nerves. This was happening. This was really fucking happening. He was finally gonna meet his secret admirer! He was going to see them, they were going to see each other. Holy shitttttt. This was amazing. He felt like he was gonna throw up.

God, what was he going to say? How was he supposed to act? He was going to meet the person who had been writing such beautiful and heartfelt letters to him and  _ he didn't know what he was gonna fucking say. _

Needless to say, Jeremy was on edge for the rest of the day, unable to focus on anything except for his nervousness and excitement and his fear and his happiness.

He was losing his fucking mind.

The final bell rung like the bell of a church and Jeremy all but shot out of his seat, racing towards the door that lead outside to the football field. He stopped before he could step out.

He was still confused as to how he felt about his admirer. He had dated Christine for a few months before their mutual break up. Discoveries were made that were previously unseen (Christine’s asexuality. Jeremy’s bisexuality). He had confided in Christine about the admirer and she had responded with gusto, swooning over how romantic it all was. He had confided in Christine about a lot of things.

He had… feelings for Michael. Christine nearly had to spell it out to him. He'd had feeling for Michael since middle school, he suspects, but had buried it so far down and refused to acknowledge it. Like a shameful secret hidden behind locked doors. Christine had smiled sweetly at his realisation, offering him nothing but support. He was lucky to have her.

But now things were in a muddle. He loved Michael, but he loved his admirer. And since Michael will never have him he  _ should  _ want to give it a go with his admirer who already loves him but it felt… wrong. Like he was missing something by thinking he could replace one with the other. It gave him headaches and made him feel queasy.

It was cold when Jeremy stepped out onto the field, causing Jeremy to shiver and pull his coat more tightly around him. Football season was over, which meant that the field was empty this time of day. Empty except for one other person, standing at the edge of the grassy stretch with their back to him, bundled up in a familiar red coat and grey scarf.

“Michael?” Jeremy called, walking towards him. “What are you doing here? Are you waiting for someone?”

He saw Michael take a visible calming breath, something he always did when he’s nervous. Jeremy frowned in concern and opened his mouth to say something. Michael beat him to it.

“Your smile is like a crescent moon on a clear night: bright and wonderful and surrounded by stars.” Michael turned around to face Jeremy, no doubt taking in his shocked, confused expression. Sheepishly, he held out a thornless red rose. It clicked suddenly.

“Even when you're not smiling you’re the most beautiful thing in the sky,” Michael finished, wincing when his voice cracked nervously. Jeremy took the offered flower in silent awe. Michael began to fidget; he never did like silence. “Uh… I don't know if you're disappointed it's me and I'm sorry if you are. I'm also sorry I did this whole thing without telling you, even when you, like, ranted right at me about my own letters. It was really cute by the way. Just to, uh… let you know. Uhm. So yeah. I'm sorry. I'm not sorry that I love you though. I'll never be sorry for loving you because you deserve so much love you have no idea and I'm rambling, this is awful, please say something I need to stop-”

Jeremy cut him off by grabbing the lapels of his coat and jumping to his tiptoes, kissing Michael roughly. Michael squeaked, tensing up with momentary shock before responding so passionately he grabs Jeremy by the hips and lifts him into the air. Jeremy scrambled, winding his legs around Michael's torso as Michael supported his weight, leaning into the kiss. Jeremy felt something wet slide down his face and pulled away, watching years fall from Michael's lovely, lovely eyes. He leaned in again to kiss them away.

“I hoped it was you,” Jeremy murmered as Michael lowered him into a hug. “I love you so much, I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't you.”

“It's me,” Michael whispered back reverently, wiping his face. “It  _ killed _ me to keep it a secret every day when you're so divine and  _ right there  _ and I couldn't worship you because you weren't mine.”

“Well, now I am. I’m all yours, Micha.”

Jeremy clutched the rose in his hand as Michael bent forward for another kiss. He didn't need to search up the definition for this one. The definition was standing right in front of him, kissing him like he was the only thing that mattered.

And they were, the only thing that mattered.


End file.
